LV1
by BeeCityz
Summary: Happy AkuRoku Day 2011! This is a chapter fic entertaining the idea of AkuRoku romance in a zombie apocalypse world. Look forward to yaoi, shounen ai, and plenty of lemon. If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.
1. Prologue

The disease spread like wildfire. The initial outbreak was described as a scene of "civil unrest" in some third world country that no one knew existed. It didn't even make the front page.

The second outbreak was one day after the first, at an airport in Asia. Experts would later assume, correctly, that an infected person had carried the disease onto an airplane. By the time it had landed, all of the passengers were carrying the disease, and were more than eager to spread it.

It reached Tokyo International Airport within the week, and that was all it took for the disease to be considered a "pandemic." Before the governments of the world had time to discuss their course of action, it was already in Chicago. Detroit. London. Moscow. Brussels. Paris. Johannesburg.

The news stations managed to stay up and running for about a week after the disease took over America. In that time, scientists and sociologists and other sorts of experts were consulted on the cause, the spread, and the effects of the disease. Hardly anything came out of those desperate interviews, because those "experts" were just as clueless as everyone else. However, they did provide one bit of information that was priceless to those who were still trying to survive - a name. The Lazarus Virus.

_Now, be careful_, the experts had said. _The Lazarus Virus is not to be confused with Lazarus _Syndrome. _What we are describing is not a patient who miraculously revives after failed attempts at resuscitation. We are naming the disease in which, after the disease has been transferred from one infected person to another - usually by way of biting-, a person dies. All brain and organ function comes to a halt. That same person, usually within one hour of being bitten, will revive. We have deduced that they have no cognitive ability, and that they react only to sound. They will then begin feeding on the flesh of the living, thus spreading the disease. _

Then the news stopped. Not that it really mattered - by that time, everyone knew what was going on. The central government had dissolved. The President of the United States was being hidden in some secret location, along with several of the other world leaders. At least, the ones who hadn't contracted the Lazarus Virus.

The moment people realized they could no longer rely on their government, wide scale panic occurred. Hospitals were flooded with those who had been attacked by the infected, and quickly became not centers for help, but a means of spreading the disease. Churches and mosques and other places of worship were packed far beyond their maximum capacities with believers, praying to their deity that they would survive. When the infected came and began feeding on them, the rush of people trying to escape killed those - the lucky ones - who wouldn't fall victim to the virus.

Within a month, most everyone had contracted the Lazarus Virus and become infected. What few survivors there were sought shelter. Acquired weapons. Stocked up on food, water, and other supplies. Some decided to wait it out to see if any help would come and take them away to a place where there was no infection. Others took a more proactive approach - killing as many infected as they possibly could. All it took was one clean shot to the head, and they were down. For good.

**183 Days After Initial Outbreak **

Axel peered through the scope of his rifle and guessed that there were around five to six hundred of the infected within fifty yards of his hotel. They were dragging themselves along, listless as ever, running into each other, not even caring, waiting for potential food to alert them.

He sighed, set his rifle down next to him, and kicked his feet up on the railing of his balcony. Really, he thought, Lady Luck had to have been on his side when he decided that he would hole himself up in the St. Regis New York regardless of how many rich assholes he had to plow his way through…and it had been abandoned. Who in their right mind would abandon the St. Regis New York?

What a silly thought. Of course, the people fleeing from the hotel hadn't been concerned with how much money they were paying a night, so much as saving their lives. The redhead laughed to himself, looking down at Fifth Avenue. What had once been a bustling center of shopping and commerce, a place where people of all backgrounds and nationalities could melt together, was now empty. The large, interactive adds still blinked their messages at the undead. Of course, Axel knew, there were thousands of those things on this street alone, but most of them were busy wandering through empty buildings and mindlessly navigating the back alleys of this and that business.

Ah, to be so carefree. At least Axel was able to relax in the little paradise he had created for himself. The undead making their way into his Presidential Suite wasn't really an issue, since he had taken out and/or blocked the stairways to the first and second floors (obviously, God gave man flamethrowers for a reason) and if he needed to get out for any reason, there was always the service elevator.

Over the last 183 three days, he had become a professional at wasting time in the aforementioned paradise. He managed to create quite the wonderful little game center in the living room, which had become host to the 127 DVDs he had looted when everyone was going crazy, along with the Xbox 360 and 45 games that he had stolen. He had played 276 games of solitaire with a deck of cards that he found, played through Candy Land so many times it hurt, and wrote a mini-novel.

"Booooring, boring, boring, boring…" He muttered, standing up from his chair and walking back into the suite. He glanced at the calendar, where he was marking off and counting the days as they went by. He glanced at his laptop, humming from its position on one of the million desks in the room. He glanced at his journal, which he had been keeping since everything went to shit.

Then he glanced in the general direction of the bedroom. The nice, big bedroom, with its flat screen TV and its king sized bed with a memory foam mattress. Oh, how it beckoned! No matter that he had only just gotten up about four and a half hours ago. He could watch some of the complimentary movies, or a few of the TV shows that he had recorded before all of the channels got fuzzy and stopped broadcasting their regularly scheduled programming.

He stopped in the middle of the room and looked around, feeling that same loneliness he felt whenever he realized just how alone he was. When he considered that he hadn't seen another talking, thinking, feeling human being in half a year. When he thought that his life would most likely come to an end in the Presidential Suite of the St. Regis New York, that no help would come, and that he would be alone for the rest of his life. For the love of God, he was only twenty-two! How depressing.

Well, nothing for it. He trudged toward the master bedroom (because the Presidential Suite had _three_ bedrooms) and picked up some odd DVD on his way there, intent on falling asleep halfway through it so that he could re-watch it at a later date.

And as he laid in bed with the blinds drawn to block out the sunlight and the TV volume on low so he could ignore it, he noticed the moaning. The constant, lifeless moaning that had practically become a trademark of the infected. They did it all day, every day, and it was enough to drive a person mad. Groaning, Axel reached over for his remote and turned the volume up a bit, and tried his damnedest to tune it all out.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Okay, so, originally, this story was going to be for AkuRoku day, which I MISSED (got, I deserve to be shot) but then it sort of felt like it should be a chapter fic...so it's going to be my belated AkuRoku Day chapter story. xD;

I promise swear to God on my life that there will be lemon and fun things in upcoming chapters. I guess this chapter is sort of like a prologue. Like, setting the scene and what not. I apologize for its badness, because I haven't written anything in foreeever and I'm a bit rusty. ^^;

Please enjoy, and review!  
>~Sara<p> 


	2. Chapter 1

Axel groaned as he rolled out of bed, blinking at the bright sunlight that was streaming into his room. It took him a moment to gather his surroundings and remember that he couldn't run down to Jamba Juice for a quick smoothie before heading over to his job at Empire Erotica. At this he laughed a bit, stretched, and began with his new routine.

This new routine consisted of pulling his Glock 17 out from under his pillow and doing a quick sweep of the bedroom, adjoining bathroom, and balcony. From there, he moved over to the door and listened for any sounds of movement in the next room. If and when he heard none, he moved the very large and _very_ heavy cherry oak dresser from in front of the door, grabbed his gun, and moved into the other room.

After a quick walk-through of the apartment revealed that no undead had managed to sneak in while he was sleeping, it was over to the calendar. He picked up his pen off of a side table and squinted in the little box that was today's date. After confirming the day of the week and the date (it was one of the little things that kept him from going insane, honestly) he scribbled a messy '190' in the box and drew an 'x' through it.

For breakfast, he would have scrambled eggs and toast. He thanked God every morning that the St. Regis New York had some big ass generators that kept the refrigerator in his little kitchen up and running, allowing him to keep perishables. The only problem he could envision would be finding fuel, but there was quite a large amount of backup fuel that for whatever reason no one had tried to loot, so he wouldn't worry about it just yet.

After breakfast, if it was a Monday or Friday, he would shower. Again, praise the Lord, there was still hot, running water. But he knew that this, too, wouldn't last forever, and tried to conserve it as much as possible. Wash the dishes with cold water, do the laundry with cold water, etc.

If the day of the week didn't happen to be a Monday or Friday, then he would kick back on the balcony and stare at the infected for a while. It could be ten minutes, it could be three hours. When one had literally all the time in the world, spending a few hours sniping at the undead could be a wonderful way to pass that time.

Then, he would scribble a few things in his journal to remind himself five or six or sixty years from then what he had been doing. He sighed to himself for what seemed like the millionth time that day as he stood up, grabbed his journal and pen, and made his way back over to the balcony.

The entries had been getting progressively shorter since the initial outbreak, and Axel assumed that was simply the result of him getting used to his situation. Entry 1, 6 Days After Initial Outbreak, was four pages long. It was filled with fear and anxiety, and he was so frantic when writing it that his handwriting was practically illegible.

He flipped back to a black page (the book was almost full, and he'd have to find a new one sometime) and stared at it for a few moments. Well, no time like the present, right?

**Entry 184**

**190 Days After Initial Outbreak**

_Their numbers seemed to have increased in this past week. _He wrote, frowning down at the words. Something about this seemed so ridiculous. But at least it gave him an outlet for all of the thoughts screaming in his head, begging to be shared with someone else. _This day last week, I estimated somewhere between five and six hundred. Now, I'd say there have to be at least eight hundred. _

A quick glance down at Fifth Avenue confirmed this. _I can't imagine why their numbers would be increasing. Could they hear me all the way up here? I make a point to be quiet in everything in I do. Maybe they hear the generators? Even though they're in the basement, they do make quite a bit of noise. _

"Well, Axel." He muttered to himself, mostly to hear the sound of his own voice out loud. Just hearing himself think was starting to drive him insane. "This is certainly something to think about."

oOo

Four hours and two movies later, Axel hadn't given any thought to a plausible reason why the undead might be gathering in the vicinity of his hotel. He had, however, considered throwing himself from his balcony and letting the impact with the Earth crush his skull open, thus ending his life. Maybe if he got lucky he could take a few of those things with him.

That thought had prompted a very emotional viewing of _The Titanic_, in which the redhead sobbed his eyes out and shoveled spoonful after spoonful of the complementary ice cream he had found in the freezer into his mouth. When it became obvious that just watching a very sad chick flick couldn't end his pity party, he popped in _The Champ_ (conveniently the saddest movie ever made) and made sure to turn up the volume as loud as he could and shut all of the windows in the hopes of drowning out that God-awful moaning.

By the time the sun was setting, he was back on the balcony. Watching a sunset against the cityscape of New York City had to be one of the most beautiful things in the world, he thought. Especially from his comfortable seat in one of the nicest hotels in America.

A quick look through his scope revealed that nothing had changed in the time he had wasted feeling bad for himself (something that occurred pathetically frequently.) The infected still bumped around each other, mouths hanging open, decaying bodies with rotten flesh stumbling around aimlessly.

He watched with disgust as one of them coughed up what had to be at least two pints of blood. It was horrid and ugly and made him ill, but for whatever reason he couldn't look away. He had the same fascination with them that made a person watch a car accident or a train wreck. You know that it will be horrible. That people will be broken and bleeding and that you'll hate yourself for watching, but you can't make yourself look away.

Some unintelligible sound of disgust escaped his throat, and he swept along the heads of the rest of the infected, looking for something interesting to occupy his time until he went to bed. Blessed are those who expect nothing, for they will not be disappointed.

But then something caught his eye. Something that wasn't supposed to be in this crowd of undead; that didn't fit. He frowned and angled his sight back to the area where that abnormality had been, leaned back from his rifle, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. Honestly, was he losing his mind and starting to hallucinate? Was he so lonely and desperate for human contact that he was imagining other people that weren't really there?

No. These were definitely real people. They _had_ to be real people. He watched with half shock and half delight as these two people - what looked like two blonde girls - navigated silently in between the infected, each holding onto the other's hand for dear life.

They were moving away from him, toward what looked like some apartment complex that had long since been abandoned. He cursed himself for not realizing that there were other people so close to him, but really, it made sense. He _was_ in New York City, after all. A city populated by more than 10 million people. They couldn't have all turned into mindless cannibals.

A grin slowly spread across his face. As he watched them retreat into their little complex, one of them glanced back at his hotel. She was definitely looking in his direction - no doubt she could see the lights he had on in the suite. Now that the sun was setting, they would be easily noticeable.

He doubted that she could actually see him, and if she could, he had to be incredibly small to her. She was small to _him_, even through the lens of his scope, which led him to believe that she had to be at least three hundred feet away. Even so, after a few moments of this stare down, she pursed her lips together and raised a single hand, waving.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Yay another chapter...

I'm going to try to update this every day, but I'm not going to promise that's going to happen. xP I'll try, though, I swear!

So, if this chapter seems really boring, it's supposed to be. I don't particularly like it, but I think it's necessary, so I'm going to keep it. I guess I just kind of want to give an example of just how wonderful being stuck in the St. Regis New York is during the zombie apocalypse. (Hint: It's really boring.)

I hope you all enjoy it, please review!

~Sara


	3. Chapter 2

**191 Days After the Initial Outbreak **

Axel spent the next morning in an excited stupor. He was so excited, in fact, that he nearly forgot to go through his routine checking of the hotel room. Thank God no undead had managed to sneak in (but really, how could they?) or he more than likely would've become a Human Happy Meal.

After he remembered to do his checking, he remembered that he had forgotten to eat breakfast. Of course, in his excitement, maintaining healthy eating habits wasn't really his main priority. A quick piece of toast would suffice.

Then it was to the balcony. A quick glance at his clock told him that the time was 9:34 in the morning, which was unnaturally early for him. He chalked it up to being unable to wait to see those other people again, confirm that he didn't dream about them and that they actually existed.

So he picked up his sniper rifle and looked through the scope, quickly locating the building they had retreated into. There were probably thirty or forty of the infected in front of it, doing what they did best: absolutely nothing. He looked down at the door and the ground-level windows, noticing that the windows were boarded up and the door was shut (at least they had common sense enough to barricade the place.) He scanned the horde of creatures that had amassed on Fifth Avenue, looking for a pair of blonde heads that looked more…alive than the rest of the heads. No luck.

That didn't matter. He would sit on the balcony looking for them for days if he had to (but he really hoped he wouldn't have to.) Plus, he easily could've missed them. In this crowd that had grown to nearly one thousand seemingly overnight, accidentally skipping over two blonde girls definitely seemed like a very distinct possibility.

So he looked. He looked, and he looked, and then after that, he looked some more. By the time he finally felt safe enough to turn away from what was going on the street and glance at the clock, over three hours had passed with no sign of them. He checked the apartment building's door again, and the windows, and….what was that? On the…roof?

He narrowed his eyes and moved his sight up to the roof and, sure enough, there stood the same girl who had waved at him yesterday. She was holding a pair of binoculars up to her face, and when he noticed her looking at him, raised his hand.

He watched as a smile slowly spread across her face, and she raised her hand back. It was the first human interaction he had in over six months, and it felt amazing. This simple gesture was accompanied by the knowledge that yes, he could interact with these people. He could talk to them. He could get to know them, and what they were like, and who they were before the infection spread.

Slowly, the girl on the roof lowered her binoculars and bent down to pick something up. Axel's eyebrows knitted together as he watched her through the scope of his rifle. She picked whatever it was up and held it above her head, and he understood immediately.

It was a white board. A big white board, at that. On it, she had scribbled the words, 'Hi, I'm Naminé. Room for two more?'

Okay, he needed something big to write on. When she picked up her binoculars and looked at him, he gave her the One Moment Finger and stood up, looking around frantically for something, anything large enough for her to see. He ran into the room and grabbed a magic marker off of some table and looked around, seeing his journal, knowing it wasn't big enough. He went into the kitchen and looked for anything - some piece of paper stuck to the refrigerator, the toaster, the sink…

The placemats. Perfect. He reached into a bottom drawer beneath the countertop and pulled out four or five single-use disposable paper placemats, then went back out onto the balcony. He scribbled his message as quickly as possible, looked at her through the sight, and held it up. 'I'm Axel. I'd love visitors! Be careful - they only react to sound.'

Naminé (he wasn't really sure how to pronounce that, but assumed it was something like café) read this and erased what she had written before, began on her knew message. 'We know. We came from the Atlanta int. airport.'

When he read this, a few things passed through his mind, the first of which being awe. Had they driven? The highways had been really backed up, he knew, but that was for people leaving, not coming in. He could understand wanting to leave an international airport, too. But why come to New York City, where the infection would be just as bad, if not worse?

He crossed out what he had written on his placemat, and just below, wrote the only thing he could think of. 'Why here?'

She looked, erased, then wrote. 'We are from Russia. We flew in six months ago, and when we found out about the infection, we came to NYC. Our mother and father live here.'

Ah, so they were sisters. That made sense, of course. Sisters would travel together, sisters would stay together no matter what. Even in the face of such a horrible disease, they accompanied each other to the northeast from Atlanta, Georgia. It was touching, really.

He crumpled up the used placemat and tossed it aside, grabbed a new one from his short stack, and began writing. 'So you drove all the way here for your mother and father? That's pretty impressive!'

This message put a confused look on her face, and as she watched, she shook her head and made hand motions like she was moving a steering wheel. Then she began nodding as she made walking motion with her middle and index fingers.

Holy shit. They had _walked_, in the height of the outbreak, from Atlanta all the way to New York City just to see their parents? Forget impressive. That was just _nuts_. He gave her a thumbs-up to show her that he understood, and she set her binoculars down and picked up her white board.

'You have food? We are hungry - all food here is spoiled.'

'Yes, I have food. I also have hot, running water and TV. Use the service elevator behind the front desk. It will bring you up to me.'

She read this and nodded, scribbled 'See you soon' her whiteboard, and retreated off of the roof. Axel leaned back from his rifle and sighed a sigh of relief, a smile spreading across his face. Yes, this girl and her sister were definitely real. And he was going to be seeing them soon. He would be talking to them in person, eating with them, watching movies with them, making jokes with them.

A very small and very selfish part of him hoped that they either gave up looking for their parents, or never found their parents, or had already found their parents and realized they were infected. The opportunity - the opportunity that he had to connect with other human beings - was impossibly lucky. And he had no intentions of letting it slip through his fingers.

oOo

A few hours passed before they left their little hideout and started moving slowly, cautiously toward the hotel. They kept their faces down so he couldn't see them very clearly, and he assumed it was so that they didn't have to look at the horde of undead that they would be mingling with and passing through.

Each held onto the other's hand for dear life, and they moved so carefully. It was stressful for Axel, watching them in his scope. Occasionally, they would bump against one of the infected persons and freeze in their tracks, waiting to see if this was all it took to get them noticed. When nothing happened, they continued on their slow journey.

He watched them until they were beneath the balcony, where he had to lean over the rail to see them, and that didn't feel safe at all. So he set his rifle down and walked into the room and sat in front of the service elevator, watching the little numbers on the top that indicated at what level the elevator was sitting. The little 'one' stayed illuminated for a painfully long time, and watching it, he realized something terrible - that he had forgotten to tell her which floor he was on.

Yes, he had burned the shit out of and tried to knock out the stairs to the first and second floors. But they hadn't been completely destroyed - thus creating his paranoia that an undead individual could potentially make its way to his room - and if they stopped on _any_ floor in between, they could potentially be met with quite the unpleasant scene.

Of course, Naminé had seen him on one of the top floors, but how was she to know that he was on _the_ top floor? This thought created a nervous pit in his stomach that wouldn't go away no matter how many times he checked the elevator light of walked out on the balcony to see if he could see them. No matter how much he paced in front of the elevator wondering what the _hell_ was taking them so long, he couldn't help imagining them being devoured by the infected in a desperate attempt to meet him.

Then the elevator dinged. It dinged the ding of life, Axel's attention immediately snapping to the numbers. The one was still illuminated, and as he watched, the light shifted from the one to the two. Then from the two to the three, to the four…all the way up to fifteen. And it stopped.

He exhaled slowly, realizing that this was both a blessing and a curse. His floor was twenty. Her guess had been close, but not close enough. He waited, listening as closely as he could for any small sound that would clue him in to what they were doing. Did they get out of the elevator? Were they walking around? Talking? The drone of that constant moaning made focusing a bit difficult, but no focus was required to hear what he heard.

First, a very loud scream that belonged to one of the girls. He assumed it was Naminé, simply because she was the only one he had seen, and from what little information he had gathered about her, she seemed like the screaming type (okay, this was a completely baseless assumption, but it made him feel just a little better.) The scream was immediately followed by gunshots, which would inevitably draw more infected to the hotel.

And the little light that was currently illuminating fifteen moved up to sixteen, and stopped. It stayed there for five minutes, then ten minutes, and Axel told himself that if something had happened there would probably be another scream, so he shouldn't worry. They had weapons, and they knew how to use them. They would probably be okay.

Then the little light moved to seventeen. The ritual was repeated, with Axel watching it with apprehension, waiting to hear something, praying he didn't. He did this with the next two floors, too, which couldn't possibly be good for his health.

The light came to a stop on twenty, and the elevator dinged, and the doors opened. The redhead's grin was met with a gun in his face, and he raised his hands slowly. Standing with her back pressed against the wall of the elevator was Naminé, white as a sheet, looking at him like he was about to jump her.

Standing in between her and Axel was definitely _not_ her sister, but most likely her brother. Axel blinked down at him, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that this person he had spent the last twenty-four hours thinking was a cute blonde girl with pixie-cut hair and a slight frame was a boy. This task proved rather difficult.

"Say something." This boy hissed at him, cocking his gun. Axel realized that he was holding the gun steady. He wasn't shaking, and his voice wasn't shaking, and there was a cold calmness in his eyes that was frightening, at best. "_Say something!_"

"Uhm…" Having a cocked gun stuck in his face definitely wasn't encouraging intelligent speech at the moment. "Hi?"

The boy sighed slowly and lowered the gun to his side, putting the safety on. No part of him relaxed, though. He watched Axel carefully, closely, muscles tensed in case he would have to fight.

Naminé, however, stepped forward, her hands shaking, studying Axel with more curiosity and less hostility. "A-Axel…?"

"Ah, Naminé." He stuck out his hand and smiled. "Am I saying that right?"

She chuckled. "Yes, you're saying it correctly. It's nice to meet you."

He noticed a touch of an accent on her words, which was completely adorable, and shook her hand gently. Really, the whole situation was laughable. They were going through all of these standard formalities that one went through when meeting someone new, yet outside, creatures incapable of complex thought wandered around aimlessly, their only desire to consume living flesh.

He turned from Naminé to her brother, giving the best grin he could manage. "I'll forgive you for sticking a gun in my face."

The boy watched him closely, skeptical, but after a few moments broke down into what could only be described as a radiant smile that seemed to come completely naturally. "I'll forgive you for failing to tell us that those _things_ were in here, all the way up to the fifteenth floor. Oh, and for failing to tell us which floor you were on."

The elevator doors started to shut, and Axel slammed his hand against the one, prompting it to open back up. He stepped aside and gestured for the two to enter, keeping his grin on his face. As the stepped out and into the large space, their expressions became identical ones of awe.

He remembered that awe. It was probably the same feeling he got when he first entered this place that he had claimed as his own. He couldn't believe how _huge_ it was, couldn't believe that there were people in the world who were wealthy enough to pay for it.

"I'm Axel, by the way." He stuck his hand out in front of the boy, who looked down at it and then looked up at Axel.

He smiled a smile that lit up his whole face, and a warmth came over him that replaced the cold hostility that had been in his eyes not moments ago. His hand slipped into Axel's for a gentle handshake, and when he spoke, his words were soft, without a hint of the accent that had been in his sister's voice. "It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Roxas."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Funny, isn't it, that right after I say I'm going to try to update every day I miss...what...three days in a row? Really sorry about that. I hope you can forgive me and continue reading my fiction. xP

So, finally! A real chapter! I'm hoping now that Roxy and Namine have been introduced the chapters will get longer, because it won't just be, "Oh, this is how Axel's day is boring." Like, there's actually going to be real dialogue! 8D I hope everyone else is as excited as I am.

Please read and review! I only got two reviews on the last chapter! (But they were really good so I'm not complaining or anything...xP)

~Sara


	4. Chapter 3

**12 Years Before the Initial Outbreak**

That was it. The end of life as he knew it. Axel stared blankly at his World History textbook, only vaguely aware that all of the people in the classroom were staring at him. It didn't matter, honestly. None of it mattered anymore. His life didn't matter anymore. He might as well just throw himself out the window right now, because there was no purpose in continuing his existence.

"Axel…?" Ms. Pemberly. God, her voice. It was like nails on a chalkboard to him, after the crushing blow she'd just delivered. "Are you alright, sweetie?"

He looked up at her, some small shred of hope still remaining in his eyes. "You…you're lying."

She sighed. "No, Axel, I'm not. Adolf Hitler was a _bad person_. He killed millions of people, darling."

"But…but I'm sure they all deserved to die!" He cried, standing up and slamming his little fifth-grade hands against the desk. "They were niggers and kikes! He was just saving us all from their sickness, right?"

The silence in the classroom went from being sympathetic to shocked. He looked around, eyebrows raised, wondering why the fuck people weren't supporting him in this. He was right…right? "Axel Russo! To the principal's office! Immediately!"

Wait…what? "But it's true! Daddy told me that Hitler was going to save all the whites from the niggers and kikes who were trying to murder us." Ah, there. That would set her straight. He folded his arms with a triumphant smile, but she didn't back down. Instead, she marched over in her heels that were too high for a classroom and grabbed him roughly by the arm and threw him toward the door.

"The principal's office. Now."

**205 Days After the Initial Outbreak**

One would honestly hope that when 99 out of 100 people in the world have become mindless eating machines that go after their fellow humans, at least _most_ of the bad people would be in that 99%. Because really, bad people deserved to be devoured. Rapists and child molesters and murders and wife beaters all deserved to be eaten alive by those disgusting creatures and proceed to join their ranks.

Long ago, Axel accepted that the world was full of bad people. He hated them, but he by no means tried to ignore their existence. Rather, he just went out of his way to avoid them. If he saw someone who looked a little sketchy, he'd cross the street so that he wouldn't have to walk past them. He tried not to antagonize those little bastards who thought they were just _so cool_ because they carried guns and beat up their girlfriends.

Yet here he was, being a bad person. What a hypocrite. He should just jump from the balcony of the St. Regis and end his life quickly. He seriously considered this, while he stood with his ear pressed against the bathroom door, the sounds of quiet moans muffled by rushing water gracing his ears. Yes, just hurry up and kill yourself.

He thought of what the air rushing against his skin would feel like as he shoved his hand down his pants and began stroking himself. He wondered if he would feel anxious as he met the ground, though all he could feel at the moment was lust. He ached for release. To be set free of his body would be nice, but really, all he wanted in that moment was an orgasm.

**204 Days After the Initial Outbreak **

"Axel Russo," Roxas through his controller onto the coffee table and folded his arms stubbornly. "You suck cock."

"You're just jealous because I'm a better driver than you are."

"This is nothing like driving in real life!" The blonde yelled, pointing at the TV accusatorily and giving Axel a murderous stare. "This only proves that you have better hand-eye coordination than I do, but I don't think that really matters anymore, given that the world has gone to _shit_."

"You need hand-eye coordination to use weapons, though." Axel mused, pretending to get distracted by something out the window. Honestly, this kid got worked up way too easily.

"That's different."

"Nope."

"Yes, it is."

"I don't think so~"

"Axel, it's different."

"You're wrong."

Roxas fell silent, prompting Axel to look back at him. While the redhead was grinning, the other male just looked completely defeated. His expression was flat and his posture was slack and he just stared blankly back at his companion.

"Um. Are you okay?"

It clearly took a moment for Roxas to form his response. "Axel, you're a little older than I am—"

"Six years, yeah."

"—but you have got to be one of the _stupidest_ people I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. Congratulations. You have set a new standard."

Axel pouted. "Come on, Roxy. Don't be like that. I was just messing with ya. Wanna watch a movie?"

"First of all, stop calling me that. Second of all, don't talk down to me. It pisses me off." Roxas folded his arms and leaned back against the couch, staring at the paused Grand Theft Auto with such disdain Axel was almost afraid to talk to him.

"There are dead people walking around twenty stories below us, dear. You don't have the luxury of being pissed off. Come on." He scooted closer to the younger boy and nudged his shoulder, which received a nudge back. A good sign indeed. "What do you say to _Titanic_?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"You'll start crying."

Axel frowned. He would. The last time he and Roxas and watched _Titanic_ together (Naminé wasn't a fan of American filmmaking so she elected not to join them) he'd burst into tears at the very end, and Roxas ended up nearly strangling him.

"It's been two weeks since we got here…" Roxas started, drawing Axel's attention back to him. "And the first day you hounded us with questions, and I answered all of them, and then we watched movies and played games and ate and slept and bathed. And that's all."

Axel cocked an eyebrow. "Your point?"

Roxas turned to look at him, his expression flat yet somehow expectant. "I don't know a single thing about you other than your age and your name."

"Oh."

The silence that followed was the pure definition of awkward.

"So _tell_ me."

Honestly, sometimes Roxas spoke like he was dealing with a young child who didn't really understand what he was trying to say. And English was his second language! Shouldn't he be embarrassed about every word that came out of his mouth? God, he was just so…so…

"You're so—"

"Don't you dare call me sanctimonious, Axel." He said, his tone warning. "Just swallow your goddamn pride and tell me about yourself. Where were you born?"

Roxas, one. Axel, zero.

"Here."

"In the city?"

"Yes. What about you?"

"Moscow." Roxas turned so that he was leaning against the arm of the couch, and Axel mirrored his position. Both of them had their legs crossed Indian style, and both had their arms folded across their chests. What a picture. "You knew that."

"It seemed like the appropriate time to ask."

The blonde rolled his eyes and smiled. "What about sexual orientation?"

Axel choked on this one. "I'm sorry, uhm."

"You know…gay, straight, or taken? Well," He gestured in the air in front of him. "Never mind that last one."

"I definitely didn't ask you that."

"I know you didn't. But I'm asking you."

Over the last thirteen days, Axel thought he'd gotten kind of used to Roxas's personality. He was blunt, that was for sure. He was a firm believer in brutal honesty, he had a very dry sense of humor, and he was a realist sometimes crossing the border into being cynical. Obviously, there was something Axel had missed. The question had caught him completely off guard. "I don't think—"

"Jesus Christ, Axel, if I was going to judge you for what you say I wouldn't have asked. Naminé isn't here, though I doubt she even cares. Oh, and one more thing. All of the people you know are fucking _zombies_!" He snorted. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm a proud member of the LGBT community."

"Oh. You're gay?" Somehow, the words felt strange passing his lips.

"No, Axel. I'm a lesbian."

"Ah, well. That makes sense. You know, considering you are a giant pussy."

"Oh, ha-ha. You're so funny I could die." Roxas sneered at him. "Forget it. It's not like I'm going to get any useful information out of you anyway."

"What would be considered useful information?"

"It doesn't matter because I'm so pissed off at you right now that anything that comes out of your mouth will be deemed useless and a waste of my time. So." Roxas cleared his throat and glanced toward the kitchen, where his sister had emerged and was busy at work on that night's dinner.

"So?"

"Just shut up."

Axel sighed melodramatically and turned to watch Naminé as well. She had become quite the busybody since moving into the hotel. She cooked, she cleaned, and she made sure that the boys bathed regularly. Just like a mother. She'd even taken on the daunting task of venturing down to the basement to hunt for food. The industrial-sized refrigerator was packed almost full (Axel had barely been able to make a dent in it in the half year he'd been living there) but the undead wandering around down there made obtaining said food a frightening task.

"Um, excuse me, Roxas." When she spoke, both of them raised their eyebrows. All of her syllables were exact and measured and quite adorable. It was Roxas who had suggested she take this opportunity to practice her English – it would be mean of them to speak Russian around Axel all the time, and what the hell. It's never too late to learn another language.

"What is it?"

"What time is?"

He smiled at her. "What time is _it_, Nam. And it's…" He glanced over at the clock before turning back to her. "Almost midnight."

"Damn, we're eating late." Axel murmured. Roxas shot him a warning glare, which was met with a middle finger in his face.

"Ah. Dinner will be near." She grinned and continued with her preparations, humming some song that Axel wasn't familiar with.

"Thank you." Roxas grinned back at her, then turned back to Axel, his voice low and dangerous. "I so swear, Axel—"

"That wasn't directed toward her, it was just an observation." He said quickly, one of his legs shooting out and kicking Roxas in the shin. Not too hard, but just hard enough. "You've got a serious stick up your ass today."

Roxas frowned. "I haven't been sleeping well."

"Why not?"

"The moaning is hard to get used to."

"Oh, shit, I'll have to do something about that." Axel murmured. "Sorry, I didn't think I masturbated that loudly."

oOo

Two hours later, Naminé was fast asleep in the bedroom she'd designated for herself. Dishes were washed, dried, and put away. Lights were turned off, save for those in Roxas and Axel's rooms and the bathroom.

"Are you going to take a shower?"

Roxas looked up at Axel from the game of solitaire they were playing on the latter's bed and shrugged. "Probably. Maybe it'll help me relax."

"I could think of a few things to help you relax."

"Oh, really?" Roxas cocked his head to the side, looking genuinely curious. Ah, some cultural barriers were just too broad to cross. "Like what?"

"Like jerking off." Axel grinned. The moment the words passed his lips, Roxas recoiled as if he'd been physically slapped by them. Too. Funny.

"Jesus, you're disgusting."

Several moments passed between them in silence, but a silence that was comfortable. The sounds of the undead outside made their way through the windows, and Axel tried his best to distract himself with the sound of his cards being laid down. Unfortunately, cards don't make very much sound.

"I wonder how much hot water we have left." Roxas said, so quietly the redhead almost missed it.

The subject was a tender one. It wasn't something that Axel liked to bring up very often. Because the moment they ran out of hot water, the electricity would surely follow. And then this little paradise would promptly turn into a hellhole. A death sentence.

"Well, I only have a few of the generators running. So long as we can keep those fueled we shouldn't have an issue."

"How long will we be able to keep them fueled? What will we do when we run out of fuel?" Roxas had stopped playing and was now looking straight at Axel. In his eyes was that same terrifying thing that Axel had seen the first day they'd met. He didn't seem scared. He didn't seem anxious. He wasn't prying. He was completely unreadable. His normally lively blue eyes were clear and cold, and his expression was flat. He was so detached, and the redhead couldn't stand being around him when he got like that.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"We need to make a plan, Axel."

"Well we don't have to make one right now, do we?" He tossed his hand down and swiped the cards off the side of his bed, meeting Roxas's gaze. For someone so much younger, it really felt like he was in control of the situation. "Go take a shower."

They held each other's gaze for a bit before Roxas sighed and stood up, picking up the scattered cards and organizing them into a neat little pile. He placed them on Axel's bedside table, then wordlessly passed under the door frame and into the adjoining bathroom.

It wasn't until he heard the door shut that Axel thought to follow him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN****:** Hey look!

An update.

I hope you guys are as shocked as I am.

...in a good way.

~Sara


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